


Reunion

by murbeft



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Pre-Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murbeft/pseuds/murbeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know things are never going to be the same as before we all hated each other, but that’s okay. What matters is that we hate each other… as a family.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liberty City

_Six years ago, Liberty City._

 

The door to the roof was kicked open and three bodies poured through the doorway. Assault rifles slung across their backs, duffel bags in hand, and ski masks covering their faces.

“Where the fuck is this kid with the chopper?”

“Relax, B, he’s on his way.” A curly mustache poked out of the ski mask. He removed it to reveal half closed eyes and eyebrows that always seemed to be questioning everything. Outside his life of crime he went by Geoff.

“Sorry if I’m just a little…uncomfortable with so many new faces. Makes you too hard to trust. And that includes the lot of you assholes that I’ve known for years,” his hand reached up to pull the mask off his face, brown curls and stubble wildly mussed about. He was better known as Burnie.

“I’d say you were being sexist, B,” you removed your mask as well; it was fucking hot out, “but I have to keep reminding myself you're just a piece of shit.”

Before he could respond, a chopper appeared over the Liberty City skyline. You were all atop the Cleethorpes Tower, a monument to the greed that had long corrupted this town. And this time you were taking your piece of that greed.

The chopper touched down on the helipad and you all quickly climbed in. You quietly noticed how the ginger bearded pilot gave a friendly nod and handshake to Geoff. Geoff introduced him as Jack.

“You’re late,” Burnie said pointedly.

“Had to shake some questioning folks. Make sure everything looked legit,” the pilot replied. HIGGINS HELITOURS was emblazoned in bright letters across the side of the chopper. 

You all flew in silence for a few minutes, Burnie impatiently drumming his fingers on his duffel bag. Looking down at yours, you gave it a protective pat and felt the stacks of $100 bills inside. In the co-pilot’s seat in front of you, Geoff was looking over a map of the city. Adjusting the mic on his headset, he spoke into it.

“Road team, do you copy? We are inbound. Repeat: we are inbound.”

Across the river in Dukes, two sports cars and a van sat in an empty parking lot. In the open of the van, a man with dark blond hair and another with thick glasses stared into a computer screen. Matt and Gus.

“The security system at the Tower is coming out of system reboot. The loop we had playing should end right as the system comes back online. No gaps, no one will know until tomorrow morning,” Gus said while pointing out the security feed on his laptop screen to Matt. 

Matt nodded and stepped back out into the parking lot, looking for the chopper in the sky. “Roger that, sky team. We see you and we are ready for ya.”

In the chopper, Geoff nodded and turned to Burnie, giving him a thumbs up.

“Now we’re all clear on the plan, right? Upon landing, I’ll ride with M in car 1; G, you and your pilot will ride with Gus in the van; and you, kid, you ride with J in car 2. We torch the chopper, cross the border into Alderney, divy up the spoils and lay low for a while. Understand?”

You all nodded in silent agreement. You had almost forgotten about J. A wild mess of black hair and an even wilder mind was all that you needed to know Joel. Something about the rumble of a six-cylinder engine electrified him and thus he was the crew’s undisputed expert driver. As the chopper landed in the parking lot, Joel exhaled a plume of smoke and tossed the butt of his cigarette to the side.

The next 20 minutes seemed to fly by, with the team splitting up as planned, detonating the C4 you all planted on the chopper, and speeding off to Alderney. You could hear the echo of sirens in the distance, headed towards the moldering ruins you all had left behind.

After you had all crossed the border, the cars met up in a park by the river. The Liberty City lights barely visible in the distance. The back of the van opened and Burnie flagged you over. You released your grip on the duffel and placed it along the other two in the back of the van. 

“Fifteen million in cash divided by 6 bodies. That’s a cool 2.5 million per person,” Burnie said as he unzipped all three bags, “Take my advice and don’t spend it all in one place.”

Behind him, Joel scoffed. “Take _my_ advice and invest it. Triple your gains.”

Burnie was about to roll his eyes and start a conversation that always lead to Joel and Burnie getting into a shouting match. Before he could, the cold steel barrel of a Hawk & Little pistol pressed against the back of his head.

“Change of plans.” Geoff exhaled calmly while Jack loaded shells into his pump-action shotgun. 

“What the fuck is going on? Geoff, what the fuck are you thinking?” yelled Matt.

“Drop your guns. Kick ‘em over and noooobody will take a slug to the chest,” Jack said in a sing-song voice.

“God _damnit_ , Geoff don’t do this!” 

He smiled and shook his head. “I have to get out of this fucking town. I’ve got to get out of this fucking game. I’m not passing up this opportunity.”

“So your plan is to kill us and just take the money?” Gus had his hands raised.

Jack shrugged. “We’re only going to kill you if you try anything stupid.”

You could see fire in Burnie’s eyes. Jack pumped the handgrip of the shotgun, chambering a round. Burnie spun and threw his fist at Geoff, making contact and sending them both into the grass. Jack fired a round into the ground by your feet, keeping you from pulling the two men apart. In the dark all you could see was bodies rolling in the dirt and fists flying. The sound of gunfire ripped through the darkness and time seemed to freeze.

Geoff slowly rose to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth. Waving the still smoking gun at the rest of you standing there, he tossed Jack the keys to the van.

“Don’t fucking come looking for us. Be glad we left you all alive.” Another round came from the shotgun, this time into the air above your heads.

At your feet, Burnie slowly rolled over and groaned, his arm slack and dripping with blood. The engine of the van roared to life and Geoff climbed into the back with the bags of cash. The tires spun in the grass, kicking up clumps of sod and dirt before it sped off.

The men all descended upon Burnie, who was too busy yelling four-letter words to notice Gus making a makeshift tourniquet from his belt. Matt and Joel helped pull Burnie to his feet and walk him over to the car. Gus eyed you for a second before putting a hand on your shoulder. You were shaking, frozen in place. “Hey, come on. We’ve gotta go,” he said.

Blinking rapidly, it took a second before you could focus your eyes on Gus. “Where? He needs medical attention. He needs to go to a hospital.”

Behind Gus, Burnie laughed sarcastically. “Whatta shitty joke. Five wanted career criminals walk into an ER…fuCK, goddamnit Joel that fucking hurts!” Joel was pouring the contents of his hip flask into Burnie’s open wound. Burnie snatched the flask from Joel’s hands and drank the rest of it.

“C’mon. We’ve gotta get out of here. Find a place to lay low. Use some connections to find a medic. Stick to the plan,” said Matt firmly. He shut the car door to where Burnie sat, and Gus squeezed in the car behind Matt. They sped off into the night, leaving you and Joel.

“C’mon kid,” Joel said quietly, “Let’s get a drink.”


	2. Chapter 2

The two of you ended up in a motel room, Joel having reluctantly traded the sports car for a boxy brown sedan, two ounces of pot, $8,000, and a handgun with the serial number scratched out. He drank directly from a bottle of whiskey he purchased around the corner while he spoke into a burner phone. He paced around the room and spoke quietly. 

After passing you a few times, he held the bottle towards you, offering you a drink. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed it until you took a mouthful. While you savored the burn in your chest, Joel hung up and sat down on the bed next to you.

“Burnie will be fine. A few stitches, arm in a sling for a short while. Gus is tracking every vehicle leaving the tristate area via land, sea, or air. And Matt…is busy unloading rounds into a dirty mattress in the alley behind their safe house. To take the edge off.” Joel took the bottle back from your hands and took another swig. He stood up and crossed over to the other side of the room. He tossed $4,000 your way.

“Listen to my advice or don’t, but take what you can get and get out of here as soon as you can. Not that you haven’t been a great extra set of hands, but this city is about to burn to the ground until we get our hands on Geoff. And this is one of those things where I— _we’ve_ got to solve this problem on our own.”

————

You spent the night in that motel, restlessly trying to sleep while Joel waited by the window. He would peer through the curtains every so often, before turning his attention back to the muted tv. When the sun started to turn the sky shades of red and pink, you decided to give up on sleep and got out of the bed. 

Joel glanced in your direction as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Trying to make it look like you hadn’t robbed a multi-millionaire, been double-crossed, and spent the night in dirty motel all in the past 24 hours was harder than it looked. You could hear Joel chuckling from across the room. Turning slowly, you stared at him with murder in your eyes.

“Just pop two buttons and no one will notice the gunpowder residue on your sleeves. It wouldn’t hurt to make that face where you can’t decide if you want to rip off their fingernails or their pants,” his face lit up with a smile and he pointed at you, “Ooh, you’re making it right now!”

You grumbled at him to shut up while you wrapped a rubber band around the cash he gave you last night. It was unnerving that you didn’t have much in the way of personal belongings, and with the possibility of law enforcement or worse circling your apartment, what you had on you was all that you had.

As you walked to the door of the motel, Joel moved in a flash and stopped you before you could touch the knob. He pulled a pistol from his waistband and gently placed it in your hands. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t immediately notice how warm the steel was. 

“I’m not one for sentiments or heartfelt good-byes, kid,” he trailed off for a beat before placing a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek. “Stay safe out there. Hopefully I’m not on the receiving end of that any time soon.” He tapped the gun still sitting in your hand. He lingered, remarkably close to you for a minute more, before smiling coyly and popping the top two buttons on your shirt. “Trust me on that. Now get out of here.”

————

Before you knew it you were in a cab, making your way to the transit authority where you bought  a ticket and got as far away from Liberty City as you could.

You wish that was how your story ended, with you riding off into the sunset on a Fox bus. But here you were, six years later, out in the middle of Blaine County, running drugs and weapons for the highest bidder. There were plenty of gangs and organizations to get tangled up in out in San Andreas, but you had learned your lesson. Between the Families, the Ballas, the Vagos, the Lost MC, and something called Trevor Phillips Enterprises (or Industries, depending on who you asked), you were better off on your own.

Perched on a stool in an unnamed watering hole in Sandy Shores, you celebrated your latest success with a cold beer and counting your earnings. The swing door to the bar creaked open and smacked back against its frame just loud enough to be heard over the jukebox. Through your peripheral, you watched a body sit down next to you at the bar and order a beer. Another body stood by the jukebox and idly flipped through the paltry music selection. The man now sitting next to you took a sip and stared at the bottles behind the bar.

“Don’t you think that’s a lot of change to be waving around?”

You smiled. “Who says I’m waving it? Just counting is all.”

Another sip from his beer. “Right. And judging by the heat strapped to your back, you didn’t earn that from a lemonade stand.”

Folding the bills in your hands, you opened your jacket just enough for him to catch sight of the gun you had holstered while you pocketed the cash. You turned on your stool.

“Ok, enough talk. Who are you and what do you want?”

He emptied his beer and placed the bottle back down on the bar top. He fished around in his black leather jacket and pulled out a few bills for the bartender and a business card. He made the same motion as you, letting you catch just enough of a glimpse of holstered pistol. He slid it towards you and stood up.

“I represent a party very interested in your work. Stop by and see us sometime.” He turned for the door before stopping and looking over his shoulder at you. “Just say that Vagabond sent you.”

You furrowed your brow as you watched him leave, stopping to grab the man by the jukebox roughly by the back of his collar. You could’ve sworn you heard him lowly say “C’mon, Gavin” as he dragged the other man out of the door.

The bartender replaced your empty without asking while you picked up the card from the bar.

It was black. Matte stock with raised, white gloss letters that spelled out B O N E on one side, with an address deep in the heart of Los Santos on the other.

Money was money, you rationalized as you pocketed it.

Clearly you _hadn’t_ learned your lesson.


End file.
